


Chicago's First Disaster

by JollyTimeTraveler



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Chicago, Cities, Personification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyTimeTraveler/pseuds/JollyTimeTraveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was considered an accident, but someone was still blamed.</p><p>Chicago was a small town blossoming into a city. And one unforgettable event gave the City her first scars and laid the foundations for progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicago's First Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Paris Burning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/825130) by [thecitysmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecitysmith/pseuds/thecitysmith). 



Chicago started out as a small up-and-coming city.

And the City was a loud-mouthed little girl with untamed frizzy blonde hair that never laid flat, and would in later years be called an afro, her brown eyes lit up with the vigor of her citizens. She had a clear, velvety voice, that she used often. They strove for greater things. And she was at the head of them, leading them, always ready to expand her borders and to build buildings that touched the sky. And yet, she felt the pollution that was poisoning her people and it weakened her, her spirit cracking. But her people took care of themselves, and they fixed what was broken. When she was broken, they fixed her because that was what they did. When a building collapsed, the people gathered together to rebuild. Chicago wrote often to other cities around the world, sometimes asking for advice or just to say hello. She was kind and held the older Cities in Europe in high respect, though she was still considered young in their eyes. They thought, maybe she will last and maybe she will not. She was a child even in the eyes of humans, yet her bright brown eyes held the age of years yet to come. Her skin had a small patch of discolouration on her shoulder, due to the pollution. But it was already beginning to fade, and the rest of her body was almost completely scar-free. She had yet to experience the pain of wars and sickness and fire. And when she did, the older cities thought she was too young to have to experience anything like it.

It was considered an accident, but someone was still blamed.

It started out as a small barn fire, a lantern being knocked over. Chicago could feel the heat as it slowly seared her fingers, she gasped in pain and blew on them to try and soothe the burning. She could feel the building going up in flames, it's frame buckling as the fire ate away at the wood. But a breeze caught at the fire, and it jumped to the neighboring house and it began to burn. The burns began to spread, moving up her arms. And she was frightened. She could feel the deaths of the people trapped in their wooden houses as they burned. She ran out into the street, screaming. And her voice was mixed with the screams of the people in the street as they saw the red glow on the horizon. She ran straight toward the glow, buildings and walls moving out of the way. A wall disappeared, an alleyway sprang into existance. Chicago could feel the burning and the pain was unbearable. But she was determined to help.

When she arrived at the fire, her people were already trying to put out the fire. But Chicago knew, she knew that this fire would not be put out by humans. Even as she watched, the fire seemed to roar at them and defy any attempts to douse it. If a flaming house was put out, the conflagration burned ten more. And Chicago stood there and screamed, screamed for her people, for her city, for the buildings. Someone picked her up and carried her away. Her voice becoming raw and she wept dry tears for the people that were dying, trapped in their homes still. A drought hung over the city, and the rain would not come.

The fire burned for two days, and the whole time Chicago screamed until her voice broke. The city convulsed with her as she burned with it, the streets cracking and buckling. She felt every building that collapsed, every life that was snuffed out by smoke and ash and fire, the people's attempts to contain the fire. She felt the fear that almost every City has felt, that they would die. That the fire would consume them. She spent the two longest days of her life in a stranger's bed, her burns spreading down her back and up her neck. Finally, rain began to fall and Chicago wept wet tears as the fire fizzled out. Even with the fire done burning, Chicago's burns continued to sear her, but her people were ready.

In the weeks after the fire, other Cities around the world wrote to Chicago. Their people sent money and donations of food and clothing and other necessities. With that, Chicago and her people began to rebuild. And it was the beginning of something great. They built houses and buildings out of steel, and the city prospered. And Chicago healed, though there remained the scars on her shoulders. The city grew, and Chicago was happy.

_Somewhere in Paris, a dark-haired man sat at a table reading the paper. He saw on the front page a drawing of the city of Chicago on fire and he felt the ghost of burns on his arms as he read the article through blurred eyes. Chicago, the little girl who never knew when to stop talking. She had written to him before, just a small letter to say hello from the other side of the Atlantic. Early that day, he had received a short letter that he had not opened yet. It was a little postcard. Now that the thought was in his mind, he picked up the card and opened it. There was only one sentence on it, ' **I ho** **pe I never feel this pain again**.'_

_She was so young....._


End file.
